Staring Straight Ahead...

The "Train Boy" saga continues...

For those of you not in the know... "Train Boy" is this guy I see on the train coming home. We get off at the same stop and always ride the last car on the train. He's kinda short (but I almost qualify as a Lilliputian without heels so I don't care much about height), drives a blue SUV (I hate those gas-guzzling monsters) and works for a large advertising firm (almost the same name as the bank I work for... funny coinqui-dink).

He has a very calm demeanor about him at least from what little I've noticed. When I walk on the train platform whether or not a train is waiting for me, I run in my heels... clip, clop, clip, clop... frantically zigzagging around what/whomever is in my way... and usually matching my steps with the rhythm playing through my headphones (weird habit). But he's more of a leisurely stroll kind of person... patiently making his way through the crowds.

When I'm sitting on the train, I simultaneously sip on coffee/smoothie/water, quickly flip through a book/newspaper/magazine, bop my head in-time with whatever's on the ipod (quickly fast-forwarding through songs so I hardly ever finish one) and do my makeup. When I'm standing, I do all of the above and fidget around and, like an excited electron (been studying too much physics in my spare time), the probability of finding me standing still is inconceivable. Sitting/Standing on the train, TB hardly moves and concentrates on the paper enigma (at least to me) in his hands.

What else about TB? A sexy voice... mmm.... He's cute as a button (in a clean-cut, baby-face, guido-preppy way), always does the crossword puzzle (IN BLUE PEN... quite impressive) and has this intriguing (or is the word annoying) habit of looking at me but not looking at me.

And it happened again today... I'm standing on the train platform swaying to my ipod, sucking on a fruit smoothie and reading a book on physics... I know IMA GEEK... As he's walking by me, he glances at me, I blush and pretend I don't see him. WHY? I DON'T KNOW! I'M NOT REALLY A SHY PERSON...

Through a stroke of dumb luck, I take a seat across from him. The two of us separated by an Indian Guy that probably attending high school with me (us?). As I do my train thing (put my hair up in a ponytail while reading, sipping liquefied fruit and bopping my head rhythmically), I see out of the corner of my eye his head turn my way several times. Yet I don't turn and smile ::hits palm to forehead several times::

And as we approach our station, half the car gets up. And there I am standing awkwardly in the seat as TB stands in the aisle. I stare between TB and Indian Guy trying to seem as if I don't notice him. Which is stupid because we've exchanged conversation before (well, just once before).

Do I say hello? NO.

Do I offer a shy dimpled smile with my head lowered (my eyes coquettishly glancing above my dirty glasses)? NO.

Do I ask how the advertising business is going? NO.

Do I let my left hand (which is anchoring me to prevent me from embarrassing myself further and is precariously close to his hand that performs the same function as mine... his hand, btw, is hairy... so are his arms... I dig guys with hair... ) innocently brush (his hairy yet not gorilla-like) left hand? NO.

Do I quickly check out his ass? OF COURSE!

And that's it... the train empties onto the platform... he somewhat glances back at me (at least I think he did a few times) and I walk home to blog about the experience.

You must be asking... Um, what the hell is wrong with this girl? Why doesn't she just say hello? You've already spoken to him once. Make him your train (f) buddy! At the very least, smile at him!

My answer...

Fear of disappointment. I tend to go into situations (read "relationships") with expectations. My own expectations for myself are high (yet still realistic) and I have some degree of control over the outcome. Take, for example, work. I have the ultimate power over my job. I can leave if I don't like it, suffer or totally change career paths. My job is 100% my choice. I've finally learned that, in relationships, your own expectations mean nothing. Because the relationship, more than likely, will end either by your own hand, his hand, family, friends, work, religion, cultural differences, lack of (or too much) sexual libido, career decisions, etc.

I don't mean to generalize about women, but if they're anything like me, they meet a guy, hope he's the one and, invariably, he disappoints (either because he's just a disappointing person or the woman had too high expectations). And then the disappointed woman (read "I"), kicks herself for that one smile that escaped her lips and led her down the road of heartbreak yet again.

Fear paralyzes me. The smiling reflex (along with the lifting of the eyebrows which signifies interest) becomes a squinty smirk. The flirtatious tossing of hair over the shoulder becomes a jerky pulling of hair. The intended sexy licking of lips results in drool on my chin.

And, everytime the fear overtakes me, I feel a part of my heart ache with longing. The longing to trust whole-heartedly. The longing to know, despite my highest expectations, he'll invariably and consistently exceed my heart's most secret and unspeakable desires. The longing that he will do so, not because I voiced an angry ultimatum or a nagging reminder, but because he truly cares. The longing to find that one. The longing to crush fear and proceed with that "first love" kind of innocence. The longing for a true and pure love will ultimately break down my fear.

Until then, I'll continue to stare straight ahead... and wait for someone to turn my head for good.